Riding Bicycles
by Cjhuk
Summary: Sometimes you just need a break from your life, step outside your usual circle of friends and co-workers. Find someone new, someone interesting. A story about the evolution of friendship. Complete story posted in parts.
1. Riding Bicycles 1:1

**Riding Bicycles**

**Author:** Suzy Creamcheese**  
Contact: **pwessroom at yahoo dot com, cjhuk dot livejournal dot com  
**Series**: West Wing, Grey's Anatomy  
**Pairing**: CJ Cregg/Addison Montgomery  
**Rating**: T for the most part (M rated bits will be indicated as such)  
**Canon: **about 98%**  
Timeline**: flexible – Shondastyle  
**Setting**: Starts a few days after West Wing 3x22 "Posse Comitatus" and before Grey's 3x07 "Where the boys are". In other words, Addison just got officially divorced and CJ's agent-could-be-boyfriend got killed. You don't really need to have seen either series, but it'll certainly help with the in-jokes.  
**Beta: **Wonderful Lisa (so, feel free to throw all rotten tomatoes in her direction)**  
Disclaimer: **They're not mine – never have been, never will be and I'm actually okay with that.**  
Reviews**: Please. It's not the easiest of pairings, so any and all input (positive or otherwise) is greatly appreciated. I'm toying with the idea of expanding it into a series of fics.  
**Summary**: Sometimes you just need a break from your life, step outside your usual circle of friends and co-workers. Find someone new, someone interesting – sex is just an added bonus.

_**Part of Epic Proportions 2010**_

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Riding Bicycles

"_A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle_" – **Gloria Steinem**, feminist

**-----  
FASE ONE: Getting back on the ****bicycle  
-----**

"Miss Cregg?"

"Agent Buttercup." His mouth twitches and if she wasn't trying not to think of everything that happened in the past forty-eight hours, she would've smiled to match her expression to the faux-cheer in her voice.

He lets the nickname slide. Damn special agents. "I watched the briefing, we all did." He can't look at her and doesn't see it when she falters in her pretense of being just peachy. "You did him justice."

"It's the best I could do."

Josh breaks the ensuing silence to ask her out for drinks, for which she's ever so grateful. For all her training and experience, she just doesn't know how to deal with Simon's colleagues hovering around her.

For a moment, her empty apartment lures with promises of darkness and solitude, but she only knew Simon for a few weeks and nothing happened, certainly not enough to excuse hiding, so she accepts.

There's relief on his face, though he masks it well. "'K, holler when you're ready."

"I was just leaving."

"Excellent!" He bounces a little on the balls of his feet and takes off, presumably to grab his coat and wallet. It's Friday and while they all need to come in on Sunday, it looks like Saturday at least will be a genuine day off and God knows she needs it.

"We'll drive you."

Ron's offer knocks the wind out of her, but when she turns to face him, she's wearing a smile, forced though it may be. "I thought you guys gave up on me?" She makes it a joke, because she's too raw to handle it in any other way. "My car's in the garage, I can get home."

The agent looks away guiltily. "It's still missing its sparkplug."

"Oh."

**-----------------**

"I wish they'd leave me alone," CJ complains when Josh hands her a new flying grasshopper.

"They're Secret Service."

As if that explains everything. She got their colleague killed, why coddle her? The green liquid slides down her throat, it's slight kick exactly what she needs, though it doesn't temper her frustration. "You been here before?"

Decidedly more relaxed, Josh takes a swig of his beer. He shakes his head, "you?" Her answer is cut off by the incessant ringing of a cell phone. She watches with a fair amount of suspicion as he fishes his phone from his pocket and answers it with a curt "yeah?"

In the grand scheme of things, they haven't worked together all that long, but she can name every emotion that flickers across his face and it's enough to make her nervous. Stubbornly she lurks on her drink while keeping an eye on him. She needs this night, please let it not be a big Thing. His eyes don't bode well, so she continues to hide in her drink. When he hangs up, she almost doesn't dare to ask. "Do we have a Thing?"

"Nah." It's not much of an assurance, because he puts the bottle to his lips and puts it down again without taking a sip. "It's an Amy-thing."

Considering Amy Gardner's track record, that could easily turn into a real thing. "I want my day off tomorrow Josh, go fix it."

There's doubt on his face, as if he worries she'll do something stupid if he leaves her alone. At the same time, it's clear he wants to go and fix whatever it is Amy's done. They're all obsessed with fixing things and they have to be. "You don't mind?"

CJ knows she can't be fixed tonight, so really, he should do something useful. Something that means she can sleep in in the morning and nurse a hangover. "Certain. Go kick her butt, and take the car with you, please?"

The rarely seen 'big brother' smile makes an appearance, dimples at each side. "They're just looking out for you Ceej."

"I'm fine, they did catch the guy. No more creepy stalkers out to get me, so I get to have a life again."

"That's not how it works, trust me." It's the voice of experience, but their stories are not the same. She didn't get shot and almost die. _She_ was perfectly fine until someone decided she needed protection.

Josh kisses her cheek and settles their bill. "Don't do anything crazy," he says, concern clouding his brown eyes.

"I'm the queen of crazy, mi amour."

He holds her eyes for a moment, then relents. "See ya Sunday."

"Bright and shiny," she promises halfheartedly and watches him weave through the other patrons. It takes him a few minutes to convince the two agents sitting discreetly by the door to follow him, but as always, he gets the job done.

When she turns back to the bar, there's a new drink waiting for her. The bartender shrugs. With a silent thanks to Josh, she knocks back half of the green liquid and pretends the two young kids behind the bar aren't talking about her. Their wide eyes give away admiration, but it only makes her feel claustrophobic. This part of her job she'll never get used to.

**-----------------**

"You look like you could use another drink."

"I'm fine," she retorts, only glancing up briefly at the new occupant of Josh' deserted barstool.

The redhead, unimpressed by CJ's inhospitable attitude, shrugs. "Well, I could use one."

While CJ gets instant service because in Washington even most bartenders know who she is, the woman at her side has the looks that will ensure quick service no matter where she goes. Red lipstick sets off sharply against pale, flawless skin. An order of tequila shots surprises her; she wouldn't have taken the other woman for the tequila type. She looks more like someone used to expensive red wines and cocktails.

CJ sighs into her glass and empties it in one long swallow. When she moves to fish her purse from beneath her feet, the red-haired stranger motions the bartender for two more shots. "Don't let me chase you away, I'll be quiet." She does the self-deprecating smile rather well, her eyes warm but sad even in the dim lighting. The second CJ hesitates, she flashes pearly teeth. "I'd feel better if it doesn't look like I'm all alone while I drink myself into a coma."

Against her better judgment, CJ retakes her seat. She didn't really want to go home anyway. She takes one of the shots put in front of her and clinks it against the stranger's. The woman's smile widens further, pleased. "To temporary amnesia."

The alcohol screws up CJ's face for a second, but still feels good going down.

"Addison." The woman offers, after emptying her measure of tequila in one go.

So much for the promised silence. CJ surprises herself when she answers, "Claudia." The redhead doesn't appear to recognize her and she doesn't feel like volunteering her position.

Silence returns when they both turn back to their respective drinks and she does feel a little better now that she's not so obviously alone drowning her sorrows. Still she's careful and alert. Journalists are crafty beasts and she knows squat about her neighbor, or anyone else in this joint. This might be one of the more upscale and discreet bars, as Ron put it, but they still let Joshua Lyman in. So clearly, the standards here aren't all that high.

Ruefully she smirks into her glass, casting a sidelong glance to the redhead. Three years in office and she can't remember how to make polite small talk, they're all going to need rehabilitation before they're allowed back into the general population.

Well into her second drink, curiosity gets the better of her companion. "Work, sex or love?"

"Sorry?"

"The reason you were nursing that nuclear concoction." Addison's blue eyes are playful, but she's pulled her lips into a twisted smile that betrays her true mood. The woman, thirty-ish, is impeccably groomed. The long, red tresses shimmer healthily in the dim lighting and flawlessly applied make-up, though noticeable, doesn't overwhelm her naturally angled features.

For now, CJ decides she's game. "All of the above."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." The answer holds more venom than she intends and gives away more than she can afford. The redhead's expression softens and CJ orders them both another drink to cover up the crack in her façade.

The bartender kindly reminds her Josh settled the bill, but shuts up and gets them their drinks when she glares. Addison calls after him to put the drinks on her tab. She doesn't look like the type who needs to worry about money, but then neither does CJ.

On the off chance this woman is a reporter of some kind (the clothes and finely manicured hands say no), she won't give her the satisfaction of feeding Bartlet's press secretary drunk. That CJ can accomplish all by herself, thank you very much.

"I'm a Doctor, I can help." Her smile is on the good side of sassy.

"Doctors are part of the problem."

"We usually are," the redhead deadpans. "But we can help too. What are the symptoms?"

"Where are you from?" CJ asks, because a question is always a better distraction than an answer, especially if that answer is death.

"New York. Well, I guess Seattle now." Her expression falls, but she pulls it together. "I'm giving a couple of lectures at Georgetown, it seemed like the perfect chance to get away from my husband and his dirty, little mistress for a few days."

Surprised, CJ turns and studies the other woman. She looks like she could be Andi's younger sister, not as habitually angry as Toby's ex-wife is these days and CJ likes her shade of red better. Maybe she should introduce Toby to this woman. Or Sam. Addison seems a little neurotic and naïve in the same way that Sam can be, has a similar open expression. And she's always felt his only fault is his height. He's just not tall enough for his looks, although she'll admit to a possible bias on the subject. They'd make beautiful children. Perhaps too beautiful. She decides she refuses to inflict that kind of perfection on the world. The train of thought cracks her up and adequately distracts her from her own maybe-something a few days ago. She swallows a guffaw and displays genuine sympathy instead. "Sorry."

Addison smiles coldly, "it's okay, I cheated on him first."

"Why?" At least the one word question doesn't betray the curiosity she feels. She's been wondering what could've motivated the First Lady to kiss her and Addison doesn't appear to be anymore the cheating type than Abbey.

"I know I should have an answer – and I did at the time, but there really isn't one." She sets her glass down forcefully and tells the bartender she wants to switch to martini's. CJ decides on vodka on the rocks. She might be off tomorrow, but vodka is easier on the hangover. When their glasses are full and within easy reach again, Addison looks ahead. "I was lonely, angry and I couldn't figure out how to close the distance between us. He was 'with me', he'd say, but then wouldn't do anything that actually supported that. He was always working and I get that, I'm a surgeon too, but we all need human contact, you know." She meets CJ's eyes and shrugs, "someone who makes you feel like you matter."

The lump in her throat is stubborn and won't go down until she's poured half of her vodka down her throat. "Yeah."

"Anyway," the left corner of Addison's mouth pulls up, "we're okay now. We work together, we're friends. I just needed a break."

There's some truth to it, CJ can tell because it's her job to. It's her job to figure out if someone is being truthful or possibly luring them into a PR-trap. Communication, verbal and otherwise is her livelihood and the woman next to her hasn't finished her story. "We all need a break every now and then."

"Hmmm." The redhead knocks back the rest of her martini and shakes her head. "You ever feel like you screwed up and no matter how hard you try to be good, you just keep making more of a mess?"

CJ laughs humorlessly. This whole year has been one mistake after another. She lost her footing the day Leo told her about the MS and hasn't regained it since.

"So what's your story?" Addison wonders aloud, her eyes inquisitive. "Cheating husband? Scumbag boyfriend?"

She laughs despite herself. "God, no." The redhead seems trustworthy enough and doesn't know anything about CJ's life, which is refreshing, but she can't talk about him. She can't let this stranger into what was the only private part of her life. "No husband, or boyfriend."

"Do you miss it?" Her surprise must be clear on her face, because Addison blushes and ducks. "Sorry, that was a little inappropriate."

After a swig of her drink, CJ shakes off her initial discomfort. "It's okay, we're drinking." It earns her a smile, but doesn't change the subject and she really doesn't want to talk about the poor state of her love life. "So you're a surgeon?"

"Neonatal surgeon, actually. You?"

"I'm in communications. I talk a lot without saying anything for a living." It's embarrassing, so painfully useless in comparison and it's almost amusing to watch the other woman try to keep a neutral expression. "Must be nice," CJ muses, "to save lives every day."

Addison's voice doesn't hold any pride when she responds, instead she sounds hollow and it's enough of a surprise to shake CJ from her own misery. "Yeah, it is, but you're constantly reminded how much you don't know, that there are patients for whom your best just isn't good enough and never will be."

They talk – or Addison does – about everything and nothing. From the Seattle weather to childhood memories. Nothing too serious and yet… CJ never had many friends, since her childhood she's had little time or energy to maintain friendships. Of the few she did cultivate only two survived her transition into the White House.

It's forced her to hone her social skills, to read people in relatively short amounts of time and she likes to think she's good at figuring out people, at anticipating their motives and actions. And, at looking beyond façades. This redheaded Doctor, for all her cockiness and self-deprecating smiles, has a sadness that lingers even behind the most hilarious stories.

At least the constant stream of inconsequential anecdotes allows CJ to watch the door. There could be any number of journalists here and she's too aware of today's constant flow of information between regular citizens and those with column-space in respected news-outlets (and less respected ones) to fully relax. The more vodka she pours down her throat, the more nervous she gets and it's not really how she planned on spending her one free night this week.

The company is good though. Addison is two shots ahead by now and not holding her liquor all that well. Even her insanely pretty red hair (no amount of styling gives CJ's hair that movie-star quality) seems bogged down by the percentage of alcohol in her system.

She's quite content to let the other woman do the talking, public image a factor even with this stranger so she's trying divulge as little as possible. Besides, it's nice to be Claudia for a night and not the face of the White House.

"'Nother one?"

CJ considers it, but hasn't heard from Josh. "I'm good, Doc. Thanks."

"Lightweight," Addison bristles, "and I never liked that nickname."

"Red?"

"Oh, very original. I'll do without." She does something with her eye that might've been a blink, CJ's vision is a little too blurred for her to be sure. Even so, she recognizes a challenge when she sees one.

"I give people nicknames, that's what I do. Pokey, Sparky, Chaz, Fishboy—"

"I think I'll pass."

She feigns hurt at her companion's horrified expression. "They're good nicknames, very appropriate."

"Well," the other woman tries, "you don't know me well enough."

"Hmm, you're a surgeon, I could call you Surg." Oh no, she's got a better one. "Serge! That's it, it's perfect." Pleased with herself she empties her glass and orders a refill anyway. Who knew the President's inane trivia knowledge of famous redheads would come in handy when she's four drinks from wasted.

Her new friend looks doubtful. "It is?"

Smiling to herself, Claudia Jean nods vigorously. "Yes, yes it is."

Addison sighs. "At least it's not Satan."


	2. Riding Bicycles 1:2

**Riding Bicycles**

"_A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle_" – **Gloria Steinem**, feminist

**-----  
FASE ONE .2  
-----**

"This is nice," Addison concludes after a long discussion about women's rights, abortion and other fun stuff.

"What is?"

The redhead gestures, something, a fair amount of martini sloshing over the rim of her glass, though she doesn't appear to notice. CJ smirks; this is fun and she's almost drunk. "That you don't know me, or Derek, or Mark, or Meredith, or Alex, or—"

"You don't have any friends?" The question sobers her and CJ feels a little bad. Clearly, Addison is the kind of person who needs to verbalize things. "I'm not judging," she amends, "my colleagues are my only friends."

"'Cisely, so this is good."

Claudia gives the statement some consideration and finishes her vodka. "It is." She's not sure when it happened, but at some point between one drink and another they actually settled into amicable, substantive conversation.

Addison's eyes light up, but the sadness still doesn't leave. "Yeah." Her face turns into a scowl when the bartender puts down two more drinks and tells them it's the last round. The surgeon is genuinely surprised. "This is not the New York I remember."

CJ can't help but laugh out loud, effectively covering the memory of his lips on hers. "We're in Washington, Serge."

Blushing, her companion takes a long draught of her new drink. "Let's pretend I did not just say that." The dorky smile she flashes is disarmingly cute for someone so self-possessed and poised.

"Okay." Because, really, they both came here to forget as much as they could and it at least seems to be working for Addison.

The temperature outside has dropped significantly by the time they're leaving and CJ actually shivers. Of course, there's no cab in sight. She could call Ron, but the taxpayers tend to frown on such use of security personnel and material.

Next to her, Addison actually chatters her teeth. "My hotel isn't far, we could get you a cab there. Or wait _inside_."

"Aren't you used to this kind of weather, living in the Rainy City?"

She stomps her foot and starts walking, her attitude every bit the spoilt, rich girl CJ imagines her to have been. "I'll never get used to this weather."

The hotel is in fact nearby and the streets are quiet for a Friday night.

"I can see the White House from my room."

"Really." It's hard to muster enthusiasm, so CJ doesn't bother. She does curse inwardly when two cabs pass her by and a third is already taken.

"I voted for him." Strange how she's still relieved this woman isn't a Republican, even though her stance on abortion already said as much and would it really matter? She got along just fine with Ainsley Hayes. After breaking her office door.

"So did I." In hindsight, it's a little embarrassing how she's fallen victim to the 'us versus them' mentality. When it comes down to it, she truly believes Republicans want what's best for the country as much as she and her friends do. It's just that their ideas of how to improve the country can be so backwards and oppressive and unfair and elitist and, well, stupid. She doesn't always agree with the Democrats agenda either – feels her party's stance on same-sex marriage, the right to choose and separation of Church and State is too safe. And she hates, violently, the amount of effort and means politicians on either side put into not alienating any potential voter or ally, it only results in less substance and lesser results. "Are you going to vote for him again?"

She doesn't know what she'll do if the answer's 'no', has little inclination to try and change the woman's mind. Parting ways would be her first choice, but she still hasn't claimed a cab. Addison shrugs and kicks at a discarded cigarette bud. "I used to work with his wife. Can we just go inside? I'm not drunk enough not to feel the cold."

CJ frowns, surprised and manages not to pounce the first half of those strung-together sentences. "Wuss." This woman wouldn't survive two seconds with the President.

"Yeah, yeah, you're tough as nails. Just come inside." She follows without much protest. After all, she's only wearing a thin blouse under her summer coat and she definitely wants to know more. They pause by the front desk and the hotel is high-end, so CJ is sure she'll be recognized as soon as the clerk sees her.

This could be one hell of a story, Bartlet's drunk Press Secretary checking in with a redheaded, female lover. Not that that's actually the case, but that's what the little rats will make of it. The responsible thing to do, is to turn around and leave, but she's thought about that a number of times during this night. The company is too good to pass up and the prospect of her dark and deserted flat utterly unappealing.

Is one friend, one friend who doesn't have anything to do with the White House, politicians or press really too much to ask?

Mind made up, she turns to Addison. "How's the room service?"

The woman's face lights up, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she grabs CJ's hand and pulls her into the nearest elevator. "Room service is excellent… so is the minibar."

* * *

They've installed themselves on the floor, backs against the couch. It's not exactly her typical choice of surfaces to sit on, but the carpet is soft and woolly and the room is very nice. Georgetown doesn't spring for this, CJ knows.

Room service brought up some coffee and grilled sandwiches, but they surrounded themselves with tiny bottles of fun nonetheless. Right now, Addison is unscrewing numbers three and four and CJ feels obliged to warn her new friend that she doesn't have any cash on her.

The redhead smirks sassily, "I can make you pay in other ways."

"I don't doubt it, Serge." They clink and Addison's eyes cross a little when she puts the small bottle to her lips. CJ laughs, the last time she was this drunk was at Abbey's birthday party. "So you worked with the First Lady?"

"Hmmm, did my internship under her."

"Isn't Abbey in cardio-thora-ra-cics?" At least her companion doesn't seem to notice how she totally tripped over her tongue.

"We don't choose out specialty right away. I thought I wanted to be a neurosurgeon at first, then cardio. I didn't want to be a walking cliché."

CJ raises her eyebrows questioningly and finishes another grilled sandwich, washes it down with vodka.

Next to her, the surgeon half-smiles. "You know, the pretty little rich girl who's a hopeless romantic and just wants to play with babies. I'm a kickass surgeon," she adds for good measure, "I could have chosen any specialty, but babies… they haven't done anything yet, you know? They have their whole lives ahead of them, they deserve every chance."

Her words are so earnest, they cut through the drunken haze surrounding them. "Do you have children?" She forces the question past the lump in her throat and briefly meets the redhead's eyes.

"No." She delicately places the small and now empty bottle of gin next to its slain brothers. "I want to, but the timing just hasn't been right. You?"

"I made a choice," CJ states matter-of-factly, "I chose a job over kids – never really wanted them that badly anyway."

Addison studies her frankly, "you're not that old and I would say that we no longer have to choose one or the other. You could work and be a mother."

"Not with the hours I'm making, besides, the last functioning relationship I had ended in 1992."

"You're kidding, right?"

Amused, rather than feeling sorry for herself, CJ snatches another small bottle from the line-up and unscrews the cap. "I'm not big on relationships," she admits before putting the bottle to her lips.

Her new friend looks skeptical. Not much of a surprise, considering the stories Addison told earlier. "Why not?"

"They just never seem to work for me."

"So you just give up?"

"No, I just do the things I love which happen to take up most of my time anyway."

"Must be some job," the surgeon comments dryly.

And despite the horrendous week, the losses and unreachable goals that she and her friends carry with them every day, CJ smiles fondly. "It is." Yes, the White House eats every spare moment, drains her energy and challenges her ideals and principles on an almost daily basis. She's lost friends and for a while, she's lost trust in the most important person in her life. This job keeps her away from her ailing father and anything resembling a social life, but she loves it anyway and although she may forget it some days, this is where she wants to be. "It really is."

"There's nothing like surgery," the redhead shares, "It's like you're in this bubble and nothing outside the OR matters. All that matters is you and the patient and you have to believe in yourself, because nothing, no one will save that life, but you."

They sit in silence, commiserating their respective lives while each finishing another bottle – which, by the way, really are too small. CJ doesn't mind the silence, since there is so little of it in her life, but Addison obviously feels differently.

"How long has it been since you… you know…"

"Since I, what, Serge?"

The woman blushes slightly, but that could just be the alcohol. "Had sex?" She giggles like a teenage girl and CJ is less annoyed that she thought she'd be.

Still, no point in just rolling over. "A while."

"Oh come on, Claudia, humor me."

It's the eyes that do her in, beseeching her for more than just gossip, but something to chase away whatever demons showed up in those few moments of silence. "Six years, give or take."

Addison's eyes blow up to saucers. "Seriously?!"

She redoes the math in her head. There hasn't been anyone the four years she's been in the White House, or since the early weeks of the campaign. Public image and all. She repeats Addison's exclamation back to her, a little confused by the unreadable look that crosses the redhead's angular face. "Seriously."

"Wow. You haven't done anything?"

"There've been kisses," she allows, thinking of Simon and Danny, and decides against more alcohol when the room starts warping. The edges of her vision have been blurred for a while. It's been a long time since she's been this drunk, but she still recognizes the point of no return and doesn't feel like crossing it.

"Good ones?"

The memory of Simon's lips on hers feels real and she wonders, not for the first time, if she'd have memorized those moments more precisely if she'd known… if the kiss would've been even better. Forever, that great kiss will go hand in hand with one of the worst days of her life. "Yeah, really good ones."

"When was the last?" The look in Addison's eyes right now, is exactly the same as the one Carol gets when she pries into her boss' personal life and it makes CJ smile even though the question hits a little too close to home. She's never been very good at this girl talk.

"Too long."

"Maybe you should consider one-night stands?"

"Are you offering?"

The surgeon snorts. "Ha! Funny. Very funny."

"I am a funny woman. And one," she adds after a beat, "who really needs to pee."

"No funny business in my bathroom," Addie calls after her.

Pretty, little rich girl indeed, CJ mutters to herself. The bathroom is almost as large as her office. She takes her time, silence a nice reprieve. Even though she's enjoying Addison's company, the woman does have a mouth on her. Her eyes are wide and unfocused when she studies herself in the ornately decorated mirror and her hair is nearing its expiration date.

Somehow her current situation reminds her of Abbey's birthday. Of beautiful, drunk women and blurred boundaries. At least tonight she doesn't have to be on dangling modifier patrol, can't really get herself in trouble, so it's safe to let her guard down.

"Took you long enough," the redhead complains when CJ ventures back out into the main room.

Incredulously she stares at her host. "You have to go _again_? I thought you had all this WASP-training."

It earns her a glare and although Addison does an impressive job, it's nothing compared to Leo's. "Your phone rang, the Apocalypse Now theme."

"Great." She fishes her phone from her purse. Apocalypse means Josh and considering the late hour, it can't possibly be good news.

"Work?"

She doesn't need to answer and waits until the bathroom door is shut before giving the call-back command. "Josh? Tell me you fixed the Thing."

"I did!" Her colleague insists. "I fixed the Thing" She might actually believe him, except that he's calling her at two in the morning.

"So go home and get some sleep."

"I can't."

"You fixed the Thing."

"Yeah, but Toby broke it again."

She wishes she hadn't seen that coming. "Then he'd better fix it before I sic the Secret Service on him – they'll help me this time."

"Probably," he agrees. "We'll fix it, I just need your campaign-file on Mrs. Bartlet's press."

"Left bottom drawer of my desk, Leo has a key. And Josh, you know what's going to happen if this reaches the Oval…"

On the other side of the airwaves she can hear Josh slump when he answers with a despondent 'yeah' and hangs up. For a moment CJ considers the empty bottles neatly lined up next to each other. He's the best, she reminds herself. Not just one of the best, but _the_ best. He'll fix the Thing.

Convinced – or at least half way there – she makes a quick trip to the minibar and fishes out two more bottles. "Last one," she mutters, just as the redhead emerges from the bathroom.

"Bad news?" She grunts an affirmative and passes one of the bottles. "If you have to go?"

"They'll manage."

"I'm getting the feeling it's not any old PR-job," Addison comments, not quite teasing. She's a Doctor, so her curiosity doesn't surprise CJ.

"It's not." When she doesn't elaborate, the redhead crosses her arms sternly and looks up at her a little. They're no longer at eye-level, though the difference is minimal. "Can we leave it at that?"

"Why?"

Sure enough, when she looks down, the other woman's pale toes and bright red nails contrast sharply with the plush, dark brown carpet. Her shoes, shiny leather with killer heels – the First Lady would approve –, lie discarded under the salon table and probably have been for a while. "Because this has been fun and uncomplicated. Talking about my job will make it complicated. I really just want to not think about the complicated tonight." CJ looks up slowly and finds that Addison has schooled her face into an almost neutral expression.

There's just a hint of mischief in her unfocused eyes. "See something you like?"

She's drunk enough, damaged enough, to play along and does. Holds the stare without allowing a chuckle or smile to light the sudden tension.

Predictably, Addison looks away and it's probably a good thing. One-night stands with women aren't a good idea when you're the face of an administration. She misses that part of her life though. This woman reminds her of one of her old girlfriends and in an odd way – of Abbey. They have that same kind of effortless sexuality and are very much aware of it. Not that she thinks about the First Lady like that, she doesn't. Not even when four drinks past buzzed.

She thought about Simon like that, but Simon's gone.

Suddenly she's not sure what she would've done if the Doctor called her bluff. Disillusioned, she drops onto the couch, elbows on her knees, tiny bottle of vodka dangling in between. Addison's eyes are boring holes into her temple. The mood's changed and it's her fault.


	3. Riding Bicycles 1:3 adult

_**WARNING FOR STRONG ADULT CONTENT **_

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Riding Bicycles

"_A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle_" – **Gloria Steinem**, feminist

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FASE ONE .3  
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CJ sighs and rolls the bottle between her fingers. Unscrews the cap and allows the liquor to sit in her mouth for a few moments before swallowing. The silence drags. Usually that wouldn't bother her, but now she feels guilty because it's clear these are all her dark clouds. Still, she can't squeeze out an apology, so instead she looks up slightly and forces a smile.

"You know, Claudia, this turned out to be a pretty fun night." Addison declares with a shit-eating grin that takes a few seconds to become genuine.

The sky clears and CJ chuckles, grateful. "Pretty fun?"

There's just the slightest hint of lines around the surgeon's eyes when the grin turns into a mock-pout. "There hasn't been any sex."

Oh, there's no way the redhead doesn't know what she's doing. "That could still change." This time, Addison doesn't look away and it forces CJ to rethink her options. It's spring, which she keeps forgetting and it's just one night. This woman isn't exactly the type to sell a juicy story for a quick buck. Besides, she's so earned a little treat after Simon and the crap with Abbey.

"I don't know," Addie sighs and moves directly in front of the press secretary. Deliberately, without any signs of hesitation or anxiety, she tugs at CJ's blouse, pulling it free from her pants. "Are you sure you remember how?"

She feigns insult, but can't keep a straight face. Throwing the last remnants of caution into the wind, CJ stands up and gently places her hands on Addison's hips. She leans in to kiss those finely shaped lips, but somehow misjudges the height difference and aims too low. A chuckle covers up her embarrassment. "Maybe not."

The redhead's lips curve, tongue darting out to wet them. It's been too long since someone looked at her like that, the press secretary decides. "It's just like riding a bicycle," Addison assures huskily, "it's all about making things spin."

Things are certainly spinning when her aim improves and their lips meet – and it's not because of the alcohol. Not entirely anyway. Within seconds, her entire body tingles and the taste of Addison replaces the chemicals of her lipstick. There's nothing soft or romantic about the kiss; it's all lips and tongues, impatient and urgent.

She grips the other woman tightly, her fingers digging into soft skin and her breath hitches when the surgeon sucks on her tongue and presses herself flush against her body. The rules set, CJ gives in, slides her hands up over hips and underneath the redhead's cashmere tunic. Addison smiles into their kiss and arches a little as Claudia covers full breasts with her hands.

Heat pools between her legs when the redhead breaks the kiss and exhales shakily. The urgency of it overwhelms her, overrules any notion of gentle or sensual, of taking time. So she lifts the woman's tunic up over her head, mesmerized by the grace with which she moves her arms. Her nails rake along the soft skin, following the edges of Addison's lace bra to quickly undo the clasps.

She tangles her fingers through the surgeon's red locks and kisses her again – hard and demanding, mashing their mouths together as if her life depends on it.

Addison isn't complaining, works the buttons of CJ's blouse and uses her teeth to nip at the press secretary's lips and tongue. Somehow they manage to undress each other without falling. Hands are everywhere and CJ breaks the kiss to run her tongue along the redhead's throat. "Bed." She directs, breathing heavily and taking in the woman's curves and swollen lips. Addison moves gracefully, clad only in matching puce panties.

She follows, heart pounding. Smiles and watches closely as her host turns and poses with her hands on her hips. "Well?"

Actions speak louder than words as CJ catches her by the neck, kisses her roughly and pushes her backwards until Addison falls onto the mattress. She climbs on top of the other woman, knees and hands on either side. "I think I remember after all." To prove it, she dips her head and draws a rosy nipple into her mouth.

Addison's reaction is immediate. She shudders and gasps, arches off the bed and it reminds CJ perfectly of why she's missed this. The surgeon's skin is warm and slightly salty, with just the barest hint of sandalwood. Impatiently, Claudia tugs at the now erect tip, sucks hard and lets go, smiling when the other woman whines, "you do remember."

"It's coming back to me."

The redhead bites cutely on her bottom lip, eyes blazing. CJ is about ready to jump out of her skin. Desire low in her belly, combined with the alcohol overrules any rational thought. She just wants to touch and taste and does, kisses the woman's lips, chin and paints a path down her throat and between her breasts, always lower.

Addison's stomach ripples beneath her mouth and sleek thighs tremble with anticipation before Claudia even reaches her belly-button. She doesn't touch now, all that belies her intentions is her breath on flawless skin.

She can't get over how responsive the other woman is as she explores her body. Each contact between them, no matter how light, elicits a soft gasp or moan and when she pulls away, Addison arches her back to keep contact.

She's so ready. CJ inhales sharply when she pulls the damp panties down impossibly long legs and catches the unmistakable scent of need. Addison is a natural redhead and somehow that does not surprise her. Then, finally, drops her head and draws the redhead's clit into her mouth. Addison shudders "oh God…"

Is it wrong of her to feel a little triumph? CJ doesn't think so, not when the taste of this woman pushes all rational thoughts far, far away. She worries the hard little nub with her tongue, each flick reverberating through the redhead's entire body. Fingers tangle in her hair, pull hard and she obliges, sucks harder and purrs.

"That's… fuck…don't" the plea dies in a high pitched whine when she releases the throbbing clit and smiles against the surgeon's wet folds. She's not going to make it easy for her.

So, she dips her tongue lower, even as sharp nails dig into her skull, and explores every fold and crease of the soaked, swollen flesh. Liquid desire coats her lips and chin and she squirms to ease the pressure between her own thighs. Addison cries out, stills completely when CJ pushes her tongue teasingly against her opening.

"Did I mention," she questions innocently when she pulls back, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Addie's inner thighs, "I am great in bed?"

"Didn't. Really. Have to." Addison grunts and pulls at the press secretary's hair. "You plan on finishing what you started?" She questions irritably, still panting.

"Sure."

"Anytime _soon_?"

The redhead's cockiness is a turn on, it's that feeling of entitlement she's never had, the way she carries herself – as if the world should consider itself lucky that Addison has chosen to walk on it. She's learned enough tonight to know that it's mostly a front, but that only makes it more of a turn on – not that she'd ever admit it out loud – and CJ slowly pushes herself up and over the other woman until their faces are inches apart. She runs her tongue along Addison's smudged lips and takes the surgeon's mouth with her own, pushing her tongue deep into her.

What Addison hasn't figured out yet, is that it's CJ's job to always be two steps ahead of everyone else and while she may not have done this in far too long, it _is_ just like riding a bicycle and she has every intention of making things spin.

She repositions herself slightly just so her knee settles between the redhead's thighs. Addison shuts her eyes, mouth slack under CJ's assault and arches her back, pushing herself against Claudia's knee. Shifting her weight, she frees one hand and smoothes it down the surgeon's ribs and waist, runs her nails sharply over the prominent hipbone and through damp curls.

The small circles she rubs on the redhead's throbbing clit soon have her on edge, her breathing quick. Sharp nails dig into her shoulder blades and CJ slides her fingers further between them, the wet heat she encounters coiling up her wrist and arm, for a moment taking her breath away.

Addison's reaction is immediate. "Oh, god, Claudia…"

"Hold on, just let me…"

But the redhead is too far gone, can't keep still as her fingers explore. "So close, please… just, I need…"

"Need what?"

They're both panting, wound tight with anticipation and lust. There's something familiar in the way Addison glares at her.

CJ defiantly nibbles on the woman's lower lip. "Say it."

She has the upper hand, quite literally so as she slides her fingers down, one on each side of the redhead's throbbing clit and holds them there, wedged tightly between her own knee and Addison's swollen folds.

Addison moans, rotates her hips in a desperate attempt to get CJ's fingers when she wants them. Failing. She brings her arms up around Claudia's neck, trembling as she pulls herself up. Moist lips barely graze the sensitive skin below her ear, making her shudder.

She's reminded once more that Addison knows exactly what she's doing when the redhead's answer drools from hot lips onto her skin, voice low and all around throaty. "Fuck me."

She does. Thrusts two fingers into the waiting heat, drenched instantly by the other woman's arousal. Addison is hot and tight around her, arching up sharply to meet each thrust as she strives to push her fingers deeper into the redhead.

"Oh yes… fuck… Claud— that's, right… _There_." She finishes on a sharp moan, body straining as CJ's fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Every bit as impatient, Claudia decides enough is enough. She wants to make the redhead scream and come. Pushes her thumb against Addison hot, little clit to accomplish just that, fucking her harder, deeper. Fixated by the wetness, the feel of this stunning woman wrapped around her, she barely notices when Addison reaches the point of no return, or the nails that dig deep into her skin.

Addison is glorious when she comes. She thrashes wildly, bucks up against CJ's hand and screams her pleasure, curses and hisses and all the while CJ keeps her rhythm, pushes for more. Until Addison jerks away with a final wail, her whole body shuddering.

Her own breathing erratic, CJ sits back and watches the redhead come down from her high.

"See," Addison breathes, "just like riding bicycles."

She laughs and stretches herself out on the mattress. "I almost forgot how much fun it is," she admits. The sheen of sweat on her skin slowly dissolves, cooling her.

Next to her, Addison's breathing is still shaky, but slowing down and turns into a giggle, ends in a shudder. "That was... wow. I don't think I can move."

"Hmmm, that's the general idea."

But after a few moments, she feels the woman shift. Still unable to do much more than roll her head to the side, herself. "I don't usually…" the redhead starts, then corrects herself morosely, "no, sorry, this is exactly what I do."

"Have hot sex?" The bad joke earns her a smile, though it's not enough to light Addison's sudden, dark mood. Oh well, you can't win 'em all. "What is?"

"Turn something that's easy into a complicated, elaborate, convoluted mess."

"You just used three words that all mean the same thing. Also," she adds when her brief stint as thesaurus is clearly not appreciated, "what mess?"

Addison looks over incredulously. "The mess this is going to turn into when we sober up."

"Do you usually do this? Create a problem before there is one?" The other woman actually looks offended – huffs to stress her displeasure. CJ just shrugs. They're no college kids. "We're not friends. We don't even know each other's last names."

It's the perfect set-up, she realizes with a fair amount of trepidation. For a second it feels like Addison might offer up that tidbit of information, instead the redhead deflates and giggles nervously. "You're right."

"I usually am." Addison appears to consider that, cocks her eyebrow and Claudia thinks she really is hot and they're already in trouble, so what the hell? By her count, she's owed one orgasm and she's acutely aware of her own juices on her thighs. So she raises her eyebrow too, runs her hand over the surgeon's flat stomach. "Anyway, I think I need more practice."

It looks like the redhead intends to settle her debt when Addison quickly straddles her with feline grace. Her long, fiery hair falls down around CJ's face as they stare at each other. "Practice is good," Addison murmurs before fastening her mouth on the sensitive skin just below Claudia's ear.

* * *

The first thing she's aware of, other than the buzzing of her pager, is the sluggishness in her limbs. It's been a while, but CJ recognizes the feeling instantly and grins to herself. While she feels around for the offending piece of technology, she manages not to think about the many, many ways this could be a Very Bad Thing and instead studies the sleeping woman at her side.

It's been a ridiculously long time since she's had sex and even longer since she's slept with a woman, but it is just like riding a bicycle and this stranger was exactly what she needed; no pressure, no competing and someone who is a complete stranger to her life. It doesn't hurt that Addison is stunning. She doesn't look much different sleeping, but the relaxed state brings just a hint of soft vulnerability to her features.

Now real life is calling in the form of a panicky message on her pager and stinging eyes because she forgot to take out her lenses. The satisfied feeling she wallowed in disappears like snow under the sun. Cursing under her breath, CJ slips out from under the covers and ignores the dull throbbing of her temples. She picks up her bag from the nightstand and gathers her clothes in her arms, the trail of garments leads her out into the lounge. Carefully she closes the door behind her and drops her collection of clothes on the couch.

With her cell tucked into the crook of her neck, she struggles to put on her panties and hops inelegantly on one foot. Her eyes hurt, but at least she can see and avoid bumping into furniture. The hangover that's not quite a hangover, is still partying on in her head, so by the time Josh picks up, her mood has plummeted to new depths. "Tell me we don't have a Thing, Josh."

He hems and haws, mumbles something about 'not a problem' and 'tiny hitch', but the press secretary has already given up.

"You said you'd fix this!" She brings her voice down to a loud whisper, not wanting to wake Addison.

"I did, I did," he promises. CJ struggles with the catch of her bra when he admits, "I had her on our side again, really, but then…"

"But then you had to go ahead and say something stupid."

"No! Well, yeah, kinda. She got the First Lady involved."

Her phone starts to slip, but it's impossible to close her blouse with only one hand. The first day in ages that started well and within ten minutes, it's disintegrated into the hot mess that is her daily life. Leaving her blouse alone, she drops onto the couch. "Damn it! One day, Josh, one day to pretend that I have a normal life. Sleeping in, shopping, catching up with friends."

"You have no friends."

"_One damn day!_" She knows instinctively that he just shrank away from his phone, can picture his expression clearly, but though it usually goes a long way in making her feel better, now it does little to alleviate her frustration.

"Look, it's a Thing, but not a Big Thing, Ceej. We just need you to come in for a few hours to handle the First Lady."

CJ freezes, one foot poised in mid-air while she's trying to put on a sock and – surprisingly – managing. "I have to give up my Saturday because you're too scared to handle Abbey?" It's a weak recovery, but Josh doesn't notice.

"Please?"

She sighs audibly on purpose. "Talk to me." As Josh explains her mission and the many ways in which he and Toby screwed up last night, CJ actually manages to pull on both her socks and collect her shoes from under the sofa. She gives buttoning up her blouse another try now that her phone is staying put and nudges her shoes to line up with her feet while trying to pay attention to Josh' narrative.

"So really," he concludes, "it's not a Big Thing."

With one foot in a shoe, CJ is momentarily distracted by her reflection in a mirror. She plucks at her hair, which looks as if a family of birds nested in it. "It could be a Big Thing if you don't fix it. Soon, Josh."

"Leo wants to know when you get here."

Suddenly aware of grey/blue eyes watching her, CJ turns and comes face to face with her one-night stand. "Uhh…" The surgeon gestures, something, and approaches. She's sporting a textbook example of bed head, tousled copper hair sprouting out in all directions and there's little left of last night's make-up. She looks gorgeous, all naked and sleepy. Despite herself, CJ smirks, then blushes when Addison starts to unbutton her blouse and rematch the buttons with the right holes. "I'm a klutz," she admits with a quirk of her mouth.

"Who are you talking to?"

Shit. "I'll be there in thirty." But as usual, ignoring Josh is a tactic doomed to fail.

His voice rises a pitch, "you went home with someone!"

"Shut up."

"Is it someone I know? It's not Danny, is it?"

"Thirty minutes, Josh and please get one of the kids to distract Abbey for the next hour or so." She wants to be more explicit, make sure he understands she's talking about one of the First Daughters and not Donna or Sam, but she's not alone and has no desire to admit her lies of omission. Without giving him a chance to respond, she snaps her phone shut and shrugs in Addison's direction. "Sorry."

The redhead nods, seemingly unperturbed and CJ hangs on to the offer of normalcy for a moment longer and kisses her. It's a good kiss, considering they're both suffering from morning breath and neither is immune to the usual morning-after-awkwardness. For CJ it's a last chance to distract herself from what she's about to do. She's about to spend her morning off handling the First Lady and definitely needs to stop by the gym for a quick shower before facing Mrs. Bartlet.

"Gotta brush my teeth." Thank God for the extra toothbrush in her bag – and the comb. She watches her face in the mirror and considers how much of her conversation with Josh the other woman could've overheard. It's a small measure of comfort, knowing that she's been careful and didn't expose any national security secrets. When she comes out of the bathroom, Addison has disposed of the dirty dishes and empty bottles and pulled on a long blouse. "This was supposed to be my day off," she offers lamely.

The surgeon laughs. "Sounds familiar. It's okay."

They lock eyes for a moment and CJ tries to tell herself she wouldn't leave this hastily if there wasn't a Thing. The thing is, she doesn't know this woman, doesn't have time to address what they did or define what they did. She doesn't want to, because she'll never see her again, so all she wants is to leave this room with her anonymity intact. "Thank you. For, well," she gestures helplessly. "I had a good time."

"So did I. I would have without the, you know, sex thing."

"Yeah." With her hand already on the door she can't escape Addison's blue eyes. There's no reproach there, or hurt, merely understanding. They were both looking for someone new, one night to pretend life isn't all that complicated. This could be potentially disastrous, CJ decides, but she takes a blank card from her purse, scrawls her number on it and wedges it between the door and its golden handle. "Bye."


End file.
